Speak Low (Speak Easy 2)

“So what happens now?”

“I don’t know, Joey. I need to think.” Laying my head on his chest again, I shivered. “We should get out. The water’s getting cold.”

#

I spent the entire night in Joey’s bed, wrapped in the warm comfort of his arms. We didn’t talk any more about Chicago or getting married. I slept a little, my body spooned in the curve of his, his right arm tucked securely around my chest, our right hands clasped. From time to time, I brought my lips to his fingers and kissed them. And more than once I awoke to find him brushing the hair back from my face or rubbing his lips against my shoulder. Countless times, my throat tightened and tears threatened, but there was no point in crying.

Toward dawn, Joey rolled onto his back and I turned over, propping my head on my hand. With his features in repose I could see the little boy he’d been in that First Holy Communion picture. I saw the devil-eyed mischief-maker who’d stolen my underwear. And I saw the full-grown man who wanted to spend the rest of his life making me happy, if only I’d let him.

My gaze wandered down his body, exposed to the waist, and my belly tightened at the sight of his chest, his stomach, the line of dark hair trailing from underneath his belly button. My hands itched to touch him again. My insides felt hollow with need again. If I’d been wearing underwear, it would’ve been damp again.

I sighed. There was no use pretending I could stay away from him—I knew better.

Joey was who he was. And he was offering himself to me, everything he had. His heart, a home, a family, a life together.

What more could I ask him to give?

By sunrise, I’d made up my mind.

Chapter Fifteen

“Joey,” I whispered, gently shaking his shoulder. “Wake up. The answer is yes.”

“Hmm?” Joey’s brow wrinkled and he sniffed but didn’t open his eyes.

“The answer is yes. I’ll marry you.” Saying it out loud made my entire body radiate with excitement.

His eyes opened and he turned his head to look at me. “Did I hear that right?” He sat up and shook his head in disbelief. “Did you say yes, you’ll marry me?”

I nodded. “Yes. I’ll marry you. I’ll marry you, can you believe that?” I slapped his shoulder. “After all the years of your mean old short jokes and my giving you lip?”

Pure elation lit his features, and he tackled me, throwing me down and raining kisses all over my face. “I love your lip. You can give it to me any time you want.”

I rolled my eyes. “That’s not what I meant.”

“God, Tiny, do you really mean it?” He stopped and looked down at me, and I threw my arms around his neck.

“Yes. I really do. I want to marry you. I want to be your wife.” I laughed. “That sounds so strange—your wife. You’re gonna have a wife!”

“You’re damn right I am.” He kissed my lips. “I knew you’d come around.”

I circled his neck with my hands and pretended to choke him.

He flipped to his back and set me on top of him, straddling his stomach. “Tell me again that you’ll marry me.”

“I’ll marry you. Now enough talking.” Reaching behind me, I took his cock in my hand—it was already hard. I raised an eyebrow. “Already? I just woke you up thirty seconds ago!”

He grinned. “Better get used to that. Every morning.”

“Every morning? Yes, please.”

Grinning, he shimmied down so my knees rested on either side of his head, and without further warning, buried his tongue inside me.

I tipped forward, clutching the headboard with white knuckles, and wondered how I’d ever thought I needed anything or anyone else to feel alive.

#

A couple hours later, we sat in the kitchen—dressed properly, this time—drinking coffee and eating eggs and toast. This is what it will be like, I thought, staring at Joey’s hands as he brought his coffee cup to his lips. I grinned involuntarily.